Wake Up
by Agent Firefly
Summary: You're lying in the shadow of that cross you always carry. But this isn't right. I always get there in time. Always. (Another short story based on a one-line prompt, Vash/Wolfwood)


**Wake Up**

* * *

 _No. This isn't right._

A blue sky. Plumes of white feathers drifting down around me.

 _I always get there in time. Always. Before anything bad can happen._

You're lying in the shadow of that cross you always carry. If it wasn't for that damned thing, I might have never found you. I say your name, but you don't move or speak.

Fire erupts in my arm, sending another painful chorus of shards into the sky. I crumple in the sand and clamp my hand over my shoulder. _Stop._ I can't get close to you like this. I need more time.

But now I hear a voice. Faint and faltering and smoky and soft and unmistakably yours. "Spiky?"

There is no time. I crawl toward you, gathering strength from your sound. Calling out, "I'm here. I'm here."

You turn your head, weakly. "Where?"

 _Wait a minute. Can't you see me?_

"It's so dark out here."

 _No. Wolfwood, the sun is shining._

I stand shakily to my feet. A few steps closer, and I see it. Your blood, soaking the sand.

It wasn't a shadow, after all.

"Wolf…" My mouth won't form the words. You're blinking sightlessly at the sun.

"C'mon, Spiky. Are you—you just gonna…let me freeze out here, or what?"

 _This is all wrong._

I sink down beside you. I'm going to help you. I'm going to save you. That's what I always do.

But the minute I peel your coat away and press my hands against the wound to stop the bleeding you wince and scream and cry and _No no no no no I can't do this._

"I'm sorry," I repeat, over and over. "I'm sorry. I don't…I don't know what to do."

 _Because I'm a stupid fool who knows how to dodge a bullet but never learned how to fix another person._

I should have been there to take the bullet for you. It's all I know how to do, anyway. Shoot or be shot.

"Hey." You reach up your arm, and even though your eyes can't see me, your hand still manages to find my face. "Don't start crying on me."

I take your hand in mine, because you can't hold it up for very long, and because I want to touch you without hurting you. But your eyelids are heavy and your voice is fading, so fast. It's got to be a hundred degrees out here, yet you're shivering as if it were only twenty.

So I unbutton my coat, as quickly as I can, and lay it over you like a blanket. I ease my arm around your shoulders, because that cross can't be comfortable on your back, and I lower you down so your head can rest in my lap. This is the best I can do. It has to be enough. I need it to be.

"Th—thanks," you whisper. You're not shaking as much now. "This ain't so bad. You know…I think I could fall asleep right here, and I'd be perfectly happy. Would that be okay? Just…for a little while…"

And your beautiful brown eyes are closing, but how could I ask you to open them? I would do anything, absolutely anything for you. Even this.

Even this.

 _God. Whatever you are. If you really exist, like he says you do. Please, just do this one thing for me._ _For him._

Please.

I brush your dirty hair out of your eyes. Bow my head until our faces nearly touch. I can feel your breath, fragile and warm.

 _I don't want to do this anymore._

How many years has it been? How many lives snuffed out on this godforsaken planet, before my very eyes? I've lost count. I don't want to remember.

The pain flares up in my arm, and tears sting at my eyes.

 _I never wanted this. I never asked for this. Why the hell were we born, to suffer through the same pain again and again?_

A single feather tears loose from my skin.

 _What's the point of living so long if I can't save anyone?_

I want to scream, but I stifle the urge. I don't want to wake you.

 _No. I need to wake you. I need you here. I can't just let you leave._

You're so very important to me.

"Wolfwood? Can you hear me?"

No reply. Your face is peaceful, your breathing slow and shallow.

"Hey. I'm sorry. I know you just want to sleep. But I need you to wake up."

 _Please. Just one thing._

"Wolfwood? Please wake up. Stay with me." I curl my arms around you. Breathe you in. "You need to wake up now," I whisper, the words broken up with sobs. "You need to wake up because I can't do this without you."

 _I don't want to live in a world without you in it._

Your weight in my arms is a gift. Your precious life hanging on by a heartbeat. I cover your mouth with mine and breathe slowly into your lungs, trying desperately to force-feed you oxygen. To trade one life for another.

Suddenly I feel your lips moving. And as much as I want to stay there, I lift my head and listen for your voice.

"…in…my pocket."

"What?" I slide my hand inside your coat, carefully. There's something against your chest. A vial, so small that it could only hold a few drops of whatever liquid it contains within.

You reach for my hand again.

"All of it," you whisper.

My heart is pounding, but your grip is strong, pulling the vial to your lips. You tear it open with your teeth, you don't even spit out the cork. The glass empties in the blink of an eye. And your hand falls to your side.

And _oh God what have I done._ What the hell was in that vial? You're shaking worse than before and this is bad, you're in _pain. You've poisoned yourself and you're dying and it's my fault, this is my fault, this is what happens when I let people get close to me—_

"Vash." You cough a few times. Lift yourself up on one arm, only to fall back into mine.

I can't keep it together. The words spill out of me, the words I could never speak to the people who disappeared, the people who left me behind. "Please don't leave. Please don't go."

You raise your hands to either side of my face. And bring my lips down to yours. And I don't know how, but you're smiling.

"It's okay," you tell me. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here."

And you open your eyes.


End file.
